The Hunger Games Revamped
by Annabeth Pie
Summary: Winning means fame and fortune. Losing means certain death. The Hunger Games have begun. Fifteen-year-old Owen Fern regards it as a death sentence as he steps forward to take his brother's place in the games. But Owen has been close to death before, and survival is like a second nature. Stiff, if he has to win, he will have to start making choices. Dangerous choices.


**I KNOW I keep posting new stories, but since these characters are based off of me and my friends (Yes, even Cato), I'm determined to stick with it! :D Also, this is basically a test chapter. If it does well, I'll keep updating. If not, I'll just stop writing the book and go straight for the movie script **

**_Part I-The Tributes_**

***Chapter 1***

I began waking up in no recognition what so ever that the other side of the bed was empty. I opened my eyes to see the thin covers astrewn, and the slightly dented mattress empty. I raised my head slightly, and saw my brother sleeping with mom. It wasn't odd-Ethan's been having nightmares lately. Then again, who can blame him? Today's The Reaping, and even though his name is only in once, it can be frightening.

I still remember my first year. Only three years ago, my name was in four times. Once since I was twelve-three for tesserae. I hadn't gotten Reaped, but I was close to hyperventilating the whole time. Even after the boy was Reaped, I was still nervous. Nervous Ryana had read the name wrong and realize once I became calm, or that a prankster would imitate me for volunteering, and push me onto the walkway. Of course, the three years I've been in The Reaping, that hasn't happened. Unfourtunately though, there is still a high chance of that happening.

For example, there's a reckless kid my age named Noah Clips. He actually imitated the voice of Xaiver Isle two years ago and pushed him into the walkway. He died not long after the bloodbath. What everyone thinks is hilarious is that Noah Clips and Noah Momoni are rivals. It didn't help that Noah C keeps calling him Pepperoni instead of Momoni.

I quickly hopped out of bed, and slipped into my hunting boots. The soft, beaten leather had molded to the shape of my feet, and felt close to normal. I quickly slung on the thin jacket, and ran into the main room. I was about to open the door when something on the table caught my eye. In a small basket, were two semi-ripe plums and a small stalk of celery. There was a small piece of paper attached to the handle, so I held it close to my face and read it.

_Owen,_

_Good luck at the Reaping today! I just know you'll stay home. Stay safe!_

_-Ethan_

I smiled to myself, and quickly shoved the plums and celery into the deer-skin game bag. Usually, deer skin would be so valuable that I'd make a few bucks off of it ASAP, but not this one. This one was special.

It was the first time I went into the woods with my dad. We were walking around the lake, an oasis in the middle of the woods. He was pointing out some Katniss in the water when I heard something just in earshot. My head quickly shot around, and my eyes zeroed in on the leaves rustling on one of the far corners. By now, my dad had noticed I wasn't following him and turned to see what was going on. I remember my heart pounding, wondering what could make such a sound. I was only around seven years old then, and had a wild imagination. Someone might think it was a bear, I though it was a giant cake monster.

I have to say, when the old deer slipped through the leaves, I was slightly disappointed. I suddenly heard a whistling behind me, and I turned quickly. My dad was holding some strange contraption made of wood and a string. But, being 7 years old, I lost interest and turned back to the deer, which now lay dead on the ground. I was suddenly intrigued in the contraption my dad was holding, and turned to him again to examine it. Seeing my eyes, he gave me the wood curved thing.

"It's called a bow," He told me. "You use an arrow," He pulled out a long piece of wood with a point. "And pull it back on the string-"

Before he even finished the explanation, I whipped around at another rustle of leaves. A squirrel dashed across the forest floor in the dimming dusk, and, without thinking, I took the arrow out of my dad's hand and pulled it back on the string. I let go, and the arrow flew, piercing the squirrel right in the eye. This all happened within a second, and we both knew in that moment that I had a gift. I turned to return the bow, but dad just smiled.

"I can make more-keep it," He told me, pushing my hands away. "Let's focus on the deer, can't bring that thing back without getting caught now, can we?"

Instead, we quickly skinned the deer and washed the pelt in the lake. My dad took out a knife from his bag, and cut a strange shape from the pelt. I was watching intensely now, wondering what he was going to do with it. He poked a few holes, tied it with some weeds, and gave it to me. It was a bag similar to his, just slightly smaller.

I quickly end my flashback by slapping myself, and turning to the few pots sitting on the windowsill. Three pots. One bears a small plum tree, one a celery stalk, one a simple flower. A daisy. The type of flower The Capitol used to lure the Mockingbirds and Jabberjays to each other. The two plants surely help, but two plants can't provide enough for two people, much less three. I slip out the door, and sprint in the dawn air. The sun has only just started peeking above the horizon, which gives me plenty of protective darkness to slip under the barbed wire fence. Usually it's electric, but in District 12, if they're not airing the Games, we can count on maybe an hour or two of electricity in the afternoon.

The Games.

Just thinking of the Games and the Reaping this afternoon makes me shiver. I still can't quite grasp on how The Capitol finds murder entertaining. All I know for sure is that The Reaping will be broadcast-Maybe not live-but broadcast none the less, and the sickening Capitol citizens will be placing bets while two families per district-that makes 24 families-are trying to handle the death sentence of their loved one. Even worse, only one of those families will be brought joy once again. That's 23 families who will forever be without a family member, and the one kid that does survive will be plagued by nightmares until they die.

I'm far into the forest as my head swirls with thoughts, and I only come back to my senses when I hear a scuffle behind me. Reacting purely on instinct, I swirl around, arrow notched. Once the shape emerges, I let the arrow fly.

"Woah!" The figure calls, just dodging the arrow. "I'm not a turkey! Or a squirrel! Or anything else that lives in the forest for that matter."

I let out a sigh. "Gabi, you need to stop sneaking up on me like that."

"Not my fault you weren't paying attention," She says with a grin. "Oh!" She reaches into her bag and takes out a piece of white bread with an arrow sticking through it. "Look what I shot!"

"Holy crap!" I exclaim, turning it over in my hands. "This...this is real bakery bread! How much did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel," Gabriella shrugged like it was no big deal. "Think the guy was feeling sentimental this morning, even wished me luck!"

"Did you see Star?" I asked.

"Not this morning," Gabi responded. "I think she was busy bossing her siblings 'round."

I gave a slight chuckle. Star just turned 19, and was beginning to own the bakery. There are three other kids, Racer who's 17, Vinette who's 13, and this one girl who I forget the name of who's 15. None took out tessare, all have a less likely chance of getting Reaped. Their parents died a long time ago, when Vinette was still an infant. Cause of death unknown. The four kids lived with their Aunt Chai and Uncle Herb. With Herb and Chai reaching 60, they are organizing for Star to run the bakery when they pass. Star's all excited, and is already acting like the boss in the kitchen.

"Ethan also harvested some of his plants," I pointed out, taking the produce out of my bag.

Gabi beamed. "Well, Ethan, you've done us a favor yet again!" She suddenly begins to mimic a Capitol accent. "I nearly forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" She plucks a few blackberries from the bush next to her. "And may the odds-"

"-Be ever in your favor!" I finish, catching the blackberry that went soaring above my head in my hand. "Hey! I had to jump to get that!"

"Sorry," Gabi muttered, trying not to break out in a fit of laughter.

She takes out the sharp knife with a redwood hilt out of the bag, and begins to slice the bread along with chopping the celery. If you looked at us right now, you'd know for sure we weren't related. Gabriella still looked like someone from the Seam, with her long black hair and pale olive skin. Her eyes were hazel, but she still looked pretty close to the Seam Stereorype. Me? Not so much. I inherited blond hair from my mom, added with a bit of dad's and I got messy, sandy blond hair. My eyes are what define me as unique in appearance. One of my eyes blue, other green. It's hard to see at first, but if you concentrate you can see the difference. And if you guessed we weren't related-as if our appearance didn't give it away-we aren't. It's pretty strange, how different we look from the rest of the District.

Gabi sprinkles the thin scraps of celery onto the bread, and I quickly give her a plum. She gives me a piece of bread. We look out into the endless forest in silence. Only, it's not endless. Somewhere beyond the woods is the smoldering remains of District 13, the only District that died during the Uprising 74 years ago.

"We could do it, you know," Gabi remarks, breaking the silence. I'm slightly taken aback by this.

"Do what?" I ask.

"Leave the District," she replies in a dreamy voice. "Live in the woods. We could make it," she pauses, then quickly adds-"If we didn't have so many kids."

They're not _our_ kids, of course, but they might as well be. Gabi's older sister, younger sister, and two younger brothers. Ethan. Might as well throw our mothers into the mix too...the state they're in, the state the District is in, who knows if they could survive without us.

"I never want to have kids," I mutter.

"I might," Gabi disagrees. "If I didn't live _here_."

"But you do," I respond, irritated.

"Just forget I said anything," she snaps.

The conversation feels wrong. Leave? How could I do that, and leave Ethan with our currently unreachable mom. He'd get sent to a community home or something like that for sure. Gabi's devoted to her family as well, so it seems odd she even brought it up.

"Well, uh, what do you want to do?" I ask. We could do almost anything, fish, hunt, gather.

"Why don't we do a bit of fishing, then do a little gathering. Get something nice for tonight."

Tonight.

A shiver goes down my spine yet again. Everyone is supposed to celebrate after the Reaping, treat it like a real holiday. Most people do, since their children are spared another year. Two families, though, will be grieving the definite loss of their loved one. District 12 only has one living victor, Hayley Abreu. There was one other, Samson Yearling, but he died way before my time. Before Hayley's time-dying not long after the District Tour from a stroke.

We make out well, the predators leave us alone. By late morning, we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens, and a gallon of strawberries. I found the miraculous patch years ago, but Gabi was the one who thought of the idea to string mesh nets around it to keep the animals out.

"How many times is your name in?" I asked as we walk back into the District.

"42," she sighs. "But at least it's my last year. You?"

"16," I tell her.

42 slips of paper in the girls reaping ball with the name **Gabi Wilkoxx** written in careful writing. 16 in the boys with **Owen Fern**.

"Ethan?" Gabi asks.

"Once. I refused to let him take out tessare," I smile, remembering that the careful lettering of **Ethan Fern** was only written once.

We quickly swing by The Hob on our way home. The blackmarket used to be an old coal warehouse, but when they came up with a more efficient system, the Hob took over the space. At this time, most businesses are closed as the families running them are preparing for the Reaping, but the Hob is as busy as ever. We easily trade six fish for good bread, not as good as bakery bread, but better than the mush made by tessare grains. We trade two more for salt. Greasy Sae, the bony old woman who sells soup from a large kettle, takes halt the greens off our hands in exchange for a few chunks of paraffin. We may be have made a better trade somewhere else, but we try to stay on good terms with Greasy Sae. She is the only one who trades us for wild dog, after all.

We finish our business at the market, and go to the mayor's house to sell half our strawberries. Gabi quickly rapped on the back door, and we had a surprise when Madison Honer answered the door.

"Oh! Hello Gabriella, Owen," she said with a smile.

"Pretty dress," Gabi pointed out.

Today, her usually drab school outfit was replaced with a pastel pink silk dress, white tights, pink flats, and a white denim jacket. Her blond hair was neatly brushed, waved, and fell in ringlets on her shoulders. She was rather short when she was eleven, but she easily grew by the time she turned fifteen.

"Well, if I'm going to The Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?" She asked.

"You're _not_ going to the Capitol," Gabi responded coolly. Her eyes landed on a gold pin on her jacket.

It was a Robikeet. Robikeets were muttations from Capitol labs, a combination of a Robin and Parakeet. Not much is known about them, except their tendency to seem tough on the outside but a complete warm-hearted bird on the inside.

Gabi continued. "What can you have? Four entries? I had six when I was twelve years old!"

"Calm down Gabs," I told her in a calm voice. "It's not her fault, just the way it is."

I knew my words were true. The Reaping system wasn't fair, the poor getting the worst of it. If you need to, you can enter your name in more times for a meager year's supply of tessera grains and oil. Mayor Horne hated this system, and would be the one to stop The Reaping all together.

Madison suddenly looked frantic, and dropped the money in my hand. "Good luck, Owen."

"You too," I respond as the door closes.

We walk towards The Seam in silence. I don't like that Gabi screamed at-kind of insulted-Madison. With the tessera setup, though, I can see why a girl like Madison would set him off. A girl never even at risk of signing up for tessera in her life, a less likely chance of getting Reaped. Not impossible, but incredibly slim.

I quickly bid farewell to Gabi, and walked home myself. I pushed open the door to the old house, and saw Ethan and Mom already ready.

"Hey, I'll be out in a minute," I told them, slipping into the bedroom.

I quickly changed into my Reaping outfit, a black sweater and dark pants with my hiking boots. I walked back into the living room, where Ethan and Mom were waiting for me.

"C'mon," I told them. "We'd better go."

"Alright," Ethan told me, walking next to me.

We walked in silence to the square, but my mind was abuzz. I truly tried to protect Ethan in any way I can. Even though he can be annoying or even a jerk sometimes, that doesn't mean I shouldn't care for him. But, against the games, I'm truly powerless. There's nothing I can do to get The Capitol to change it's ways. And no matter how much the truth sucks, it's reality.

It's too bad, really, The Reaping Square. Usually, if you go there for even just a few minutes, it can feel like a real holiday. All the shops with colorful banners, their windows filled with beauty. But today, even with the colorful banners, it feels not like a holiday, but a funeral. The air has a tinted grimness to it, everyone quiet with their heads down. The teenagers file in silently, signing in and walking to the roped-off areas.

I quickly let the Peacekeeper take a blood sample, then I leave to the Male's 15 square. I don't bother looking up, as it's most likely the same as last year. And the year before. And the year before that. And even the year before that. Same people, same worried looks.

Eventually, I glance up to the stage. Same old, same old. Two Reaping balls, male's to the left and closer to the front since they're first, and girls to the right and farther back. Three chairs line the back of the stage, and a podium sits in the middle. Two of the three chairs are filled at the moment, one by Madison's father, the other by Ryana Stellar. Ryana has been our escort for a while, and looks a little freakish with her short, pink streaked hair and blinding smile.

The bells strike two, signaling the beginning of The Reaping. Mayor Horne stepped up to the podium, and began to read. It's the same story every year. He tells about the history of Panem, which is located on a continent formally known as North America. He talked of disasters, droughts, storms, floods that swallowed up the land. The war for what little land was left. The result was Panem. a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought peace and prosperity to the Districts. Then came the Dark Days, a time where the Districts began uprisings against The Capitol. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated and blah, blah, blah.

"It is a time for repentance, and a time for thanks," The Mayor finishes.

He then quickly reads the list of past District 12 Victors. In the history of the games, there's only two. And only one is still alive. Hayley Abreu, a middle aged woman with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. She wasn't completely drunk, but she wasn't cleanly sober either. She seemed slightly confused, but overall doing pretty well. In the Mayor's place, Ryana steps up.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor," Ryana exclaims. It's time for the first drawing, and Ryana says what she always does. "As usual, the boys will go first."

She reaches into the ball, and shuffles the names around, digging in deep. She pulls it out, and the crowd goes silent. She reads the name aloud. It isn't me.

It's Ethan Fern.


End file.
